


Dinner Conversation

by Mercutio



Series: Coffee Talk [2]
Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-03-27
Updated: 2002-03-27
Packaged: 2017-11-01 06:50:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/353364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercutio/pseuds/Mercutio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex has dinner with Clark and his parents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner Conversation

Lex met Clark at the door. It wasn't hard to do when you had a security system on your gate letting you know someone was entering your impenetrable castle. 

Shouldn't have been hard to do except that Clark had been able to get in before without setting it off. Couldn't do it with the truck, though, Lex noted. 

"You didn't have to come get me for this dinner with your parents, Clark. Despite the circumstances of our first meeting, I _am_ capable of driving myself." 

Clark grinned at him. "No, I had to. It's the way this kind of thing works." 

Lex didn't believe that for a moment, but then, any excuse to spend more time with Clark was a good one. He grabbed the potted plant from the hall table and walked out the door, which Clark obligingly shut behind him. 

"Won't your parents think it's strange, you driving me?" 

"Um... actually..." Clark took a quick step ahead, opening the passenger side door for Lex so he wouldn't have to manage one-handed with the kalanchoe plant. 

At least... Lex thought that was what Clark was doing. "Actually..." he prompted, placing the plant on the seat and getting in. 

He had to wait while Clark came around the truck for his answer. "Dad said he liked it better this way. That if I'm going to be driving, at least he knows you won't be running anything over." 

"Very funny. I hope you hid his rifle." 

"My dad is not going to shoot you, Lex." 

He got the seatbelt on, and put a hand on the plant to steady it. "He won't if he doesn't have anything to shoot me with." 

"How many times have you been out to the house now? And he hasn't shot you yet, has he?" 

Lex took the opportunity afforded by being the passenger to study Clark's profile. "I wasn't dating his son before." 

Clark grinned, apparently under the impression Lex was joking. "You'll be all right. Mom doesn't allow bloodshed in the house." 

"But in the barn would be fine?" 

"No... the yard would be best." 

"Clark, I'm going to have a difficult time not going in the yard." 

A brighter grin. "Relax, Lex. I meant when we kill chickens. We don't kill them in the barn 'cause it'd upset the horses." 

"Oh. I see." Lex contemplated banging his head on the dash for a moment. "Er... what's for dinner?" 

"Fried chicken." 

"Right. I'm definitely not going in the yard." 

"Bwock, bwock-bwock-bwock, bwock." 

"Making chicken noises at me is not a good way to get me to change my mind. You're just reminding me of what took place in that yard." 

"Actually, I was calling you a coward, Lex." 

"I know. I was trying to use logic." 

"Oh. How about this then? We got tonight's dinner from the store." 

"Did you?" 

Clark glanced over, visibly pouting, but his eyes were twinkling. "Don't you believe me?" 

"Should I?" 

Clark considered the question for a long minute, while Lex studied him. He was wearing a deep blue shirt, probably denim, over a white t-shirt. The sleeves were rolled up, and Lex ran his eyes over Clark's forearms, admiring the muscle. 

"Nope!" Clark announced cheerfully. 

"I shouldn't trust you?" Lex said, startled. He knew Clark was... not telling him some things, but he didn't expect Clark to just _admit_ that. 

Clark shook his head. "It'll be fun watching you try to get into the house without going through the yard." 

Lex wondered idly when exactly he'd lost his mind. Could've been at any time during his tenure as a regular of Club Zero, really. There were any number of evenings there he didn't recall very clearly, if at all. "You can carry me." 

"Oh, yeah, that'll make a good impression on my folks, you hanging over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes." 

Privately, Lex supposed he wouldn't care too much about how he looked in that case, because he'd have a very up close view of Clark's ass. But he wasn't ready to tell him that. "And it'll make a good impression when I run screaming across the yard?" 

"Um... no. Probably not." 

"My point." 

"But if I carry you, they'll assume something happened on the way here and I'll get in trouble for driving like you." 

Lex didn't like that comparison. He'd had a major accident, yes, but what Clark was implying was that Lex was trouble. That being around him could make it rub off on Clark. Which... wasn't entirely untrue. Flatly, he said, "Your parents are right. I'm a bad influence on you." 

"Lex..." Clark turned a troubled gaze on him, but before he could say anything more, they were pulling up to the Kent's house. Martha Kent waved to them from the porch. 

"We're here, Clark." 

Clark brought the truck to a halt, and turned off the ignition. As Lex reached for his seatbelt, a hand came down on his wrist, pinning it. "I'm sorry, Lex. I didn't mean it like it sounded. I was just trying to tease you." 

He took a slow, deep breath, eyes fastened on Clark's hand. "You should listen to your parents." 

"I do. But sometimes they're wrong. And, anyway, it's just dad that feels like that." 

Clark was almost holding his hand, Lex noted with the part of his brain that wasn't demanding to know when he'd decided to turn noble. "It's all right, Clark. Let's go." 

He released Lex's wrist. "Okay, if it's all right." Clark unfastened his own seatbelt, then turned to Lex again. "And the yard's safe, by the way. Mom would never let anything happen in the front yard." 

Lex felt an irrational sense of disappointment that he wasn't going to get carried across the lawn, not that he'd ever actually _expected_ Clark to do that. "Thanks." He got the seatbelt open, and picked up the kalanchoes. 

Jonathan Kent had joined his wife on the porch. Lex opened the door and slid out of the truck. This was going to be hard. Harder than it would have been to have a similar meeting with his father actually. After all, he no longer cared whether his own father liked him. 

"Hello, Mr. Kent, Mrs. Kent." He held out the flowering plant to Martha. "I brought you these. Clark said you liked flowers, and I thought a flowering plant would be more appropriate than cut flowers." 

She smiled back at him. Clark's father did not. "Thank you, Lex. You're right. This way we can enjoy the flowers longer." 

She took the plant inside, leaving the three men to stare awkwardly at each other. Jonathan glared at Lex, while Clark looked between Lex and his father, and Lex did his best to have no expression at all. He was good at that. Had a lot of practice at it. 

"Um... maybe we should go inside now," Clark said. 

"You go ahead, Clark. I want to have a word with our guest." 

Clark looked between his father and Lex, clearly unsure whether to leave Lex with the older man. The show of protection warmed Lex, but he didn't look away from Jonathan. "I guess I'll go inside then." 

The screen door banged shut behind him. Jonathan waited for the inside door to close too, before speaking. "I don't know what game you're playing here, but I don't like it." 

His head throbbed. Lex had known it would go like this, but he'd hoped that maybe the people who'd raised Clark to be so open and forgiving might eventually change their minds about him. "I'm not playing a game. I enjoy Clark's company. He's a good friend." 

"Yes, he is. But are you capable of being a good friend for him?" 

"I'm not my father, Mr. Kent." 

The door opened again, and Martha was looking through the screen at them, a worried expression on her face. "Dinner's ready." 

"Be right there, honey," Jonathan said, not taking his eyes off Lex. 

The funny part, Lex mused, was that if he were his father and someone threatened him like this, that person would be taken care of quietly and never allowed to make or be a threat again. But he couldn't point that out, because the elder Kent would take that as an attempt to intimidate him. "I'm not going to hurt Clark. I won't let anyone else hurt him either if there's anything I can do to prevent it. Not even my father." 

The older man looked him over for a long moment, staring hard at him, as if he could find out that way whether Lex was telling the truth. 

Hell, this was Smallville. Maybe he could. Lex held himself still and let himself be examined. 

He got a long, slow nod, and then the other man turned and went inside. 

Lex took a deep breath before turning the other way to look out over the Kent's farm. 

The door banged shut behind him, and he stiffened before identifying the denim shirt in his peripheral vision as belonging to Clark. 

"You okay, Lex?" 

"Checking me over for bullet holes, Clark?" he asked, striving for a light tone. 

"I told you, not in the front yard, and definitely not on the porch. Mom would get mad." Clark's voice was still worried, even though he was trying to make a joke. 

"Just as well then that I'm on the porch. I think your father wanted to shoot me instead of just asking about my intentions." 

"He did what?" The startled incredulity came through clearly. 

Aha. So Clark had just been kidding about this being a date. Lex had wondered about that more than a little. "I think he'd be happier if I had a mustache I could twirl while I dramatically detailed my evil plans." 

"Do you have some?" 

"I'm sure I could make up something to satisfy his apparent need for me to be a villain." 

"Lex... you've got to give him time. He doesn't know you yet." 

There was nothing to be gained by venting to Clark about how Jonathan Kent's suspicion of him made him feel. Clark had a deep sense of loyalty to his friends and his family. And Lex had no illusions as to where he stood in that hierarchy. That he figured in it at all should have been enough for him. "We should probably go inside before your mother regrets inviting me." 

Clark's hand settled on his shoulder, the light touch holding him in place. "You're sure you're okay, Lex?" 

Found a smile somewhere, to reassure Clark. "Yeah, I'm okay." 

The hand dropped, and a matching smile bloomed on Clark's face. "Good, 'cause I'm hungry, and Mom won't let us eat if you aren't there." 

"After you, then. I wouldn't want to be trampled in your stampede to the table." 

"Very funny, Lex." 

Inside, the kalanchoes had been given a place of honor as the centerpiece on the table. As promised, there was a plate of fried chicken on the table, along with corn-on-the-cob and biscuits. 

"It looks delicious, Mrs. Kent," Lex offered politely. 

"Sit, sit," she said, shooing them over to the table as she added butter to the items already there. 

He waited until Clark sat, then sat next to him. Clark had put himself next to his father, allowing Lex to place Clark between the two of them. Obvious symbolism, but he wasn't going to put himself in the only other open spot, and have to face Clark the entire meal. 

Which meant having to face Jonathan Kent. Ah well. He'd survived worse. Not usually on purpose though. 

Martha took a seat, and they said grace. Nothing more profound than please and thank you passed anyone's lips as the fried chicken, corn and biscuits were distributed around the table. Lex was content to enjoy the food. Being here was enough for him, for now. The more familiar and comfortable the Kents became with his presence, the more easily they would allow him into their lives. He was fairly certain that, with Martha Kent at least, he had already outgrown the label of that-bastard-who-nearly-ran-over-our-son. 

Dinner conversation started with a social studies project Clark was doing for school, and wandered easily from there until Clark said, "Yes, the dance is next week." 

"Wasn't that the one you wanted to ask Lana to?" 

Lex was not given to self-delusion, and he knew that Clark's glance at him held something very much like anxiety. 

"Yes, mom. I was going to." 

"I see -- Whitney already had. I'm sorry, dear." The sympathy from Clark's mother was very clear. 

"Er, actually, no, I didn't ask. I mean, yeah, she's probably going with Whitney, but I don't know that for sure." 

"Well, of course she's going with Whitney if you didn't ask her, son," Jonathan said, "You have to assert yourself a little." 

Was Clark _blushing_? "It wasn't that, Dad. I just kinda thought about it for a while, and... well, I didn't really want to go with Lana." 

"Oh! Is there someone else?" Martha asked. 

Lex regarded Clark with interest. That was definitely a blush now. If they weren't having dinner with his parents, he would've teased Clark about cheating on him, just to see if he could get Clark to turn even redder. 

"No... not like that. Not that I could ask to the dance. It's just... I think maybe I like someone else, too, and it doesn't seem right to ask Lana out if there's someone else too." 

"That's very mature of you, son," Jonathan said. 

Martha looked at him, then at Clark. "But, you do know, Clark, you can like more than one person. Liking someone else doesn't mean that you can't like Lana too." 

"It just doesn't feel right, Mom. And..." he glanced at Lex -- for support? -- "I think maybe I like them more than Lana." 

Emotions warred within Lex. Part of him assumed instantly that Clark meant him and wanted to jump up and down with glee -- 'he likes me! he likes _me_! -- while another part was just as sure that Clark did _not_ mean him and was groaning sickly, 'not someone _else_ to wean Clark off of, not when he just started seeing Lana as less than perfect'. He used his fork to stab at the corn he'd neatly cut off the cob. 

"Well, then, maybe you should ask the other girl instead." 

_See?_ Lex told himself, concentrating his attention on the corn. *'Other girl'. Not you, you egotistical idiot.* Of course... it was his mother who had said that, not Clark. 

"I don't know if they feel the same way." 

"You'll never know until you ask." 

"I guess so." 

Clark's mother nodded. "I know it seems hard, but you'll be glad you did." She got up from the table, plate in hand. "I made apple pie for dessert. And there's vanilla ice cream to go with it if anyone wants any." 

Lex set down his fork. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to apologize, Mrs. Kent." 

"Why's that, Lex?" she put her plate in the sink and turned. 

"I don't think I have any room for the pie, as excellent as I'm sure it would be." 

"You don't eat enough. I'll bet you work through lunch." Clark had jumped up and was helping clear the table. 

"Occasionally, yes." Lex sat still, not sure what the etiquette was in this situation. "Is there anything I can do to help?" 

"No, you're the guest. Would you like some coffee?" 

"Yes, please. Clark said that you made good coffee." 

"Did he now?" Martha turned a beaming smile on her son. "Now if I could only get him to tell me that." 

Clark rolled his eyes. "You make great coffee, Mom." 

"Thank you, Clark. Now was that so difficult?" She didn't wait for an answer, but instead handed him a knife and pushed him in the direction of the pie. 

In a few minutes, Lex had his coffee, and Clark was sitting back down next to him, with a piece of pie. He sipped it, and decided that it merited the label of good, but probably not great. 

Martha had already started on the dishes, and Jonathan had disappeared out the back door, saying something about checking on the cows, leaving Lex and Clark alone at the table. 

"Thanks for inviting me," Lex said. 

"No problem. Any time. I like having you over." Bright smile. "As long as it's okay with Mom and Dad, I mean." 

With any luck, the next visit wouldn't be nearly as uncomfortable as this one. When Clark had finished his pie and was just toying with the fork on the plate, Lex let go of the coffee mug. "It'd probably be best if you took me home now. I have some things I need to go over before work tomorrow." 

"Right." Clark was on his feet, taking the plate to the sink when he turned. "Wait a minute, tomorrow's Saturday." 

"I'll be going in anyway." 

He slid the plate into the sink around his mother, and came back, standing by the table. "That doesn't seem fair somehow." 

"It's the price you pay for being in charge," Lex said. "I probably won't be there all day though." He stood up. "Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Kent." 

She turned around, holding a sponge, hands soapy. "Oh, you're welcome, Lex. It's nice to talk to Clark's friends." 

He nodded, and then followed Clark out the door. Jonathan didn't ambush them on the way to the truck, and he got in, belted himself in, and waited for Clark. 

Who got in, equally quiet. He started the engine, and they drove away. 

They were nearly to the castle before Lex asked, "Clark, the person you want to take to the dance, the one who isn't Lana. Who is it?" 

Lex didn't look at the man beside him while he waited for an answer, just studied the stars. Tried to pretend to himself that it wouldn't matter if Clark mentioned a feminine name. Knew he'd probably get an evasion. 

"I... it doesn't matter, Lex." 

He thought he should probably close his eyes. The stars were so bright tonight; they might burn through him. Kept them open. "Why doesn't it matter?" 

"I don't think they're interested in me." 

"Ah." He looked away from the sky, at Clark, who was staring determinedly ahead. Thought about reaching out. About laying his hand palm up on the seat between them and seeing if Clark would take it. Knew he wouldn't. Not unless he was certain Clark would reach back. Lex slouched down, and put his feet up on the dash. "Just as well then." 

"Huh?" 

"Just as well that you aren't asking anyone to the dance with you. Seeing as how we're dating and all, I'd have to be jealous, now wouldn't I?" 

And found, somewhere, a small smile to reassure Clark that all was well, that it was only a jest, so that Clark would smile back at him. 

-the end- 


End file.
